


Ocean Breathes Salty

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Contradicting Tags, M/M, Manipulation, Not Actually Unrequited, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, whoops, wildly unreliable narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: -- your body may be gone, i'm gonna carry you inAkechi marches into the sea in hopes that his heart won't betray him.Inevitably, it does.





	1. into the stream

**Author's Note:**

> _we will lie and cheat, and turn around all their limit signs, and redirect this great old boring road into the depths of a lion's mouth._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> https://twitter.com/nadireon

Akechi feels nothing when he first kisses Kurusu.

His lips are stiff and cold as he presses them against Kurusu’s, trying to seem anything other than tense, awkward, and wanting an escape; for one of the rare moments in his life, his facade fails him, and he’s left so off-put it’s laughable. 

He despises it, so far out his comfort zone, pissed that he’s this uncomfortable, pissed that he has to share this moment of intimacy with someone he doesn’t care for much at all, someone he will inevitably kill.

It’s all means to an end, though. He has vices and blood on his hands, after all; something as simple as playing romantic wouldn’t -- couldn’t, really -- be horrible enough for him to back out.

Still, he internally snarls when Kurusu pulls away and regards him softly, mistaking his tension for a pure shyness and not repulsion. It was pity, he quickly concluded, and the thought of someone like Kurusu pitying him was enough for him to bristle up like Kurusu’s stupid cat.

“You’re sweet.” Kurusu remarks quietly, and it’s such an absurdly false statement Akechi nearly laughs in his face. And one day, he  _ would _ , but for now he had to keep appearances. Gaining the trust Phantom Thieves’ was paramount to his plot, and though they didn’t yet know he was very much aware of their identities, when the time came, having himself established as someone close to Kurusu, albeit with opposing views, would speed the process along immensely.

Even if it meant wading in foreign, unpleasant oceans.

“I’m glad you think so.” Akechi responds; it’s easy, because he can compliment Kurusu without  _ really _ complimenting him, and Akechi can play humble meanwhile.

Kurusu laughs and leans in for another kiss. Akechi is prepared -- or as prepared as he can be -- but he isn’t resolved clean of all tension. He makes a tiny movement forward, to make the sentiment he’s pressing into it, without having to actually press into it, but even then it’s a half-hearted gesture.

“Stay the night? It’ll just be us; my cat is with a friend.” Kurusu asks when he parts, eyes still settled on Akechi’s lips. His voice is so light, so hopeful, it makes Akechi want to vomit.

“I really would love to, but I’m afraid I have work scheduled. My higher ups wouldn’t be kind if I was late.” he answers, subtly inching himself away, eager to leave but careful to make it look hesitant. He ignores Kurusu’s disappointment. 

“Oh -- okay. Will you come around some other time, then? I have some games we can play, if you want.”

Akechi has no use of informing Kurusu that he has, in fact, never touched a video game, so instead he smiles distantly. “Of course I will,”  _ Unfortunately _ , his brain provides. “I really do like you, after all.” Akechi adds, and it’s the biggest lie he’s told today.

\--

_ “We bring you breaking news: Junya Kaneshiro, an infamous head of mafia, has turned himself into the police with no apparent outside provocation. More information will be provided after a message from our sponsors--” _

Gritting his teeth, Akechi taps the ‘OFF’ button on the remote; his occupation meant he’d been aware of Kaneshiro’s arrest long before the media had sunk their dirty teeth into it, and he very well knew the reason why. Besides, the phone was ringing.

His grimace worsens when he sees the caller ID, but he hits ‘accept’ anyway.

“Shido-san?”

The name, as usual, tastes rotten in his mouth. He’s glad that, protected by the miles between them, no one can see the snarl on his face, the nails dug into his knee.  

Shido, unsurprisingly, gives Akechi nothing useful. The Phantom Thieves’ -- Kurusu’s -- new heist had again fired his paranoia, and it was Akechi’s job to assure him that everything was still going to place.

In other words, Shido was utterly wasting Akechi’s already strained time. It was nothing new, at this point, but it was always tedious and always left Akechi inches from saying something that would absolutely burn bridges. Yet, he was smart enough to keep his temper on a short leash.

“I believe I’ve found their leader, actually. I just need some time to gain their trust, and then I can go from there. There’s nothing to worry about, really.”

Shido snaps at him for his perceived condescension. Akechi decides, smartly, to end the call there.

“--understood. I hate to end our  _ very _ productive conversation here, but, as you know, I have things to handle. Farewell.” Akechi all but sneers into the phone, and taps ‘End Call’ before Akechi digs himself deeper into his already mile-deep grave.

Not long after, his phone buzzes again -- this time, a message from Kurusu.

He could at least fake pleasantries with Kurusu.

**> [Kurusu]** _hey, are you free next saturday?_

**> [Kurusu] ** _ i want to go on a beach date with you. :) _

Nevermind Shido --  _ this _ was the biggest waste of his time. But even then, he’d much rather spend time with Kurusu; he was bearable, at the least, and going to the beach sounded nice enough. It would give him an excuse to dodge contacting Shido by letting him think he was using the time to infiltrate the group (which, he was, thank you).

**> ** _ Sure. _

**> ** _ I’ll meet you at Leblanc then? _

**> [Kurusu]** _sounds good to me!_

**> [Kurusu]** _see you then. <3_

**> ** _ Take care. _

Running a hand through his hair, Akechi puts his phone on silent the rest of the night. He just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in any more unfortunate ventures by the end of the week.

\--

At least the beach was quiet.

It was only around 10, late enough for the summer heat to be oppressive enough to justify swimwear (though Akechi’s ‘swimwear’ was just swimming trunks and an open shirt), but too early to attract beach crowds, thankfully. He’d rather not juggle the stress of swarming ‘fans’ and making himself kind to Kurusu simultaneously.

His time for recreation was sparse; he used to enjoy bouldering, but his opportunities for that, between cases, school, and Shido’s work, were far and few between. But bouldering was vastly different from a beach, and, at a loss as to what to do, he sits, bringing his knees up to the chest, at the shoreline to watch the tide; Kurusu, apparently content to do the same, sits beside him.

“Do you ever come out here on your own?” Kurusu asks, palming a handful of sand and watching it filter back on the ground through the gaps of his fingertips.

The question wasn’t what Akechi had expected; if he lied, Kurusu could probably tell -- Akechi struck no one as the kind of person to frequent the beach -- but the truth prodded at the tragic parts of him that he’d rather not drag up but didn’t have a choice otherwise. His smile, so distant and disassociated from his current state of mind, falters briefly but quickly remanufactures itself. “Unfortunately, no,” Akechi answers, finding the edges of the tide glossing at his feet a better place to look than Kurusu’s eyes. “Work and school usually have me tied up, after all. It’s not ideal, but I’m glad you decided to share this time with me. ...The ocean really is interesting, isn’t it? It seems so empty at the surface -- yet, it’s actually filled with life, and we know so little about it.” 

_ Seemingly empty, but brimming with all sorts of interesting things; the opposite of yourself. _ Akechi sneers inwardly, but he chooses to ignore his internal self-deprecation and congratulate himself for what seemed to be a successful subject swerve. Still, there’s something knowing in Kurusu’s eyes, but Akechi refuses to acknowledge it.

What he  _ can’t _ ignore is Kurusu curling to his side and laying his head on Akechi’s bare chest. Kurusu’s head is warm compared to the chill ocean breeze --

_ But still _ \--

He doesn’t reciprocate.

“The ocean is nice,” Kurusu agrees quietly, still using the hand not currently settled on Akechi’s leg to trace meaningless shapes in the sand. “I think it’s nicer seeing it with someone you care about, though.”

“Agreed.” Akechi lies, because, in this moment, all he wants is to be by himself.

Kurusu lifts his head up to kiss him, and Akechi isn’t sure if it’s because Kurusu doesn’t or does know he’s not telling the truth.

Akechi still feels nothing -- and the only thing he can do to feign otherwise is hesitantly rub Kurusu’s shoulder, because if there’s one thing in this world he doesn’t know, and can’t study, it’s intimacy. 

When they part, Kurusu’s eyes are reverent, and he  _ hates _ it. He wishes Kurusu would look at him with the same dim, blank eyes Akechi stared at him with; then, he could justify all of this with the conviction that Kurusu was using Akechi the same way Akechi was using him. 

But Kurusu wasn’t; Kurusu was good-intentioned and loving, everything he wasn’t and could never be, and it spoiled the sense of heroism that Akechi had used to justify his actions since his first kill.

They stare at each other for a long moment. 

“I think the crowds might be coming in soon; we should get going.” Akechi says.

Kurusu watches him for a few more seconds, and Akechi can’t pick a specific emotion for the look on his face.

“You’re right.” Kurusu agrees.

It’s then that Akechi realizes ‘melancholic’ is the adjective he was looking for, but it no longer matters. Kurusu stands up and dusts the sand off his trunks with one hand, using the other to reach out to Akechi in an offer to help him up.

He wanted to avoid any other physical contact, but, knowing better than to lose face, he grips onto Kurusu’s hand. It still felt oddly warm, like the rest of him -- but again, Akechi ignores it.

“We should go back to the changing rooms.” Akechi directs, flinching at what sounded like the voices of distantly approaching people.

Kurusu only nods. Akechi spends too long over-analyzing the implications of his silence.

\--

By the time they reach Akechi’s apartment, he is very, very tired. He’d subtly fought against Kurusu coming here, talking of how the apartment was a mess, how it would be a waste of Kurusu’s time, but he’d insisted, and Akechi couldn’t outright tell him no because he couldn’t give him a reason that was kinder than Akechi simply not wanting his enemy in his space.

Because, in the end, all Kurusu was was an obstacle in his way that would, sooner or later, be trampled by the necessity -- that’s what Akechi told himself, this was all necessary, it was all for the better no matter the residual damage -- of his work. He was not an ally, nor a friend, and  _ definitely _ not the lover Kurusu thought himself to be.

“Pardon the .. blandness. I’ve never had an eye for decor.” Akechi explains out of sheer nerve as he unlocks the door and the two step inside.

The walls of his apartment suddenly seem harsh and foreboding, as if even his own home was unimpressed with his company -- or Akechi himself. The fluorescent lighting hardly made the atmosphere seem any cozier.

But, if the walls are staring at Kurusu, Kurusu is staring back, taking in every cold detail and almost certainly rolling over the implications of its emptiness. There’s a thick silence, only broken by the buzzing of the lights.

“It’s nice.” he finally concludes, sitting down at the couch. Akechi doesn’t know how to respond to that.

In his wreck of a morning, he’d forgotten to turn the TV off before he left, which turning off now  _ would _ have been a welcome distraction, but by the time he goes to the couch to reach for the remote, they’re talking about the Phantom Thieves because his timing, in every aspect of his life, is laughably ill-placed. 

_ “The Phantom Thieves’ popularity has skyrocketed since bringing justice to a criminal that has long since eluded police. But the question remains: are their methods ethical?” _

He’s quick to take a seat and turn the TV off, forcing a smile in response to Kurusu’s questioning look. 

“I do enjoy hearing everyone’s perspective regarding the issue, but, thanks to my branch of work being so heavily involved in the investigation and it being such a hot topic at my school, I can safely say it’s unlikely the media will bring me any unheard of details on the matter.” he elaborates with a chuckle. 

“Oh, I can’t blame you. Everyone seems to be talking about it,” Kurusu smiles, and Akechi can’t tell if it’s laced with warmth or smugness. Akechi decides on smug, if only because it makes him easier to hate. __ “I guess you still don’t care much for them, do you?”

If Akechi had any lingering doubt over Kurusu’s identity (he didn’t), the fledglings of hope in his voice destroy it. But, in one stone, Akechi ruins them all.

“There’s too much evidence opposing the idea that they are the ones behind the mental shutdowns, but I still believe they are operating under a self-righteous justice and deserve to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” Akechi answers, watching the way Kurusu’s face falters.

“You’re certainly passionate in your convictions,” Kurusu comments, and for a moment Akechi is thankful he doesn’t press for more, until he turns the subject turns to something much more uncomfortable than his falsified views over the Phantom Thieves. “But then, if you’re so sure it isn’t the Phantom Thieves, who  _ is _ behind the mental shutdowns?”

Akechi smiles thinly. “You’re giving my detective skills too much credit; I still am but a rookie compared to others in my field of work, after all. Unfortunately, every lead I’ve had has either turned out to be a mere coincidence or turned to a dead trail. Whoever the culprit is, they have a talent for covering their tracks.”

“I’d say any teenage detective is pretty special, actually. Still, I hope you find them; I’m sure they’ll make a mistake at some point that you can latch onto.”

“As do I,” Akechi sighs. “For the time being, my only hope is to find a connection between all the victims, but even that is proving difficult-- Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to weigh you down with my problems. It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kurusu hums, inching closer. “That isn’t something you need to apologize over. I’m your boyfriend; you can tell me things.”

_ Boyfriend. _ It was the first time Kurusu had said it, and Akechi wishes he hadn’t. It made things feel too real, inches away from a reality that it was, somehow, incredibly estranged to simultaneously. 

“Ah, yes. I’m not trying to drown you out, I’ve simply .. never done anything like this, is all.” Akechi answers, adding a hint of hesitation to his voice to seem more genuine. “I’ll try to open up to you more.”

Not that there’s anything  _ to _ open up, of course; or, at least, anything Akechi could safely tell Kurusu. Even the few things he might be able to get away with spilling were details he’d rather not give Kurusu.

“I’ll do the same, then,” Kurusu yawns, and now Akechi is stiff against the other leaning on him. “Doesn’t work get stressful for you? It’s a lot to handle.”

Akechi wishes troublesome detective work was his only issue. 

“Sometimes,” Akechi answers quietly, eyes on the other side of the room. “The stakes are high, after all. A wrong conclusion can lead to a lot of trouble for an innocent person, or a criminal could end up at large if a mistake is made. It’s very much worth it for me, however; in the end, I want nothing more than to see rotten, corrupt individuals brought to justice -- by the means of law, of course.”

Akechi wishes that he, at some point, had been smart enough to shut up and usher Kurusu out his house, because, god, everything he says gets Kurusu’s gears turning. 

“Is … there a reason why you’re so determined about this?”

“No specific reason. I merely want to protect the people of my country,.” he lies, and he knows Kurusu doesn’t believe him, but, luckily, he doesn’t ask for more. “It’s my duty as a citizen of this nation.”  _ The nation that left me to rot in an orphanage and grovels to the whims of scum. _

He’d take what the people had never given him, eventually. He only needed to be patient; it was a hard virtue to keep, but he would manage.

“Well, that’s noble of you,” Kurusu answers, and Akechi isn’t sure if the curtness is because he doesn’t know what else to say, or because he knows he’s lying. “Still, just … don’t get in over your head, okay? It’s a lot of weight for anyone to bear.”

Akechi answers in a tone that is both honeyed and clipped. “I appreciate the concern. I think things will be less bothersome once both the Phantom Thieves and the culprit behind the mental shutdowns are caught, but I promise to let you know if anything comes up.”

In a different space, where Akechi could trust Kurusu and Kurusu could trust Akechi, this would be a pleasant conversation. Having someone he could rely on and talk to -- having a  _ friend _ \-- would have made all the difference years ago. But now, the ‘what-ifs’ didn’t so much as cross his mind, and the lie came out his mouth easily. Easily enough for Kurusu to buy it, apparently, because that’s the moment Kurusu rests his head on Akechi’s shoulder. Akechi hates the contact, and hopes his body language doesn’t give it away; it does, but Kurusu again mistranslates it as him only not being used to the contact (he wasn’t, but, that was obviously not the reason he wasn’t enjoying himself).

“Okay,” Kurusu answers softly, burying himself into the crook of Akechi’s neck. “Stay safe.”

Akechi doesn’t think anyone has ever spoken to him with that level of genuine concern. He doesn’t have time to ponder it, though, because that’s when Kurusu’s phone buzzes.

“Oh -- sorry, it’s uh,” he stutters as he pulls the phone out his pocket. “Just a message from Ryuji.”

It gives Kurusu a reason to  _ get off _ him, at least.

“You don’t mind if I cut this short, do you? I promised Ryuji something, but it completely slipped my mind until now.” he asks awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“Not at all. You are quite popular, after all; it would be selfish for me to keep you to myself.”  _ Please do leave,  _ he adds silently.

At least, Kurusu, judging by his snicker, seems to find it funny. “You can have me anytime I’m not being absent-minded,” he shoots back, lightly nudging Akechi with his elbow. “I’ll let you know the next time we can meet up, okay?” And, before he gets off the couch and leaves -- Kurusu pecks him on the lips.

Luckily, Akechi still feels nothing.

Still, when Kurusu is out the door, Akechi realizes that, in attempting to feign closeness with Kurusu, he’d also have to bring Kurusu closer to himself.

Which, he knew, was a doomed endeavor.

 


	2. pushing the river

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _i hardly had people that i needed to know,_  
>  cause you're the people that i wanted to know

“I think there’s more on the other side.”

Kurusu was referring to the seashells scattered about the shoreline.

When he and Kurusu first visited the beach, he hadn’t expected it to become a common rendezvous for the both of them. Akechi didn’t mind much; the beach was calm and, at the times they frequented it, free of people. He welcomed its contrast to the bustling streets of Tokyo; it was one of the few places he could let himself relax. He’d also became more adjusted to Kurusu’s presence, for the sake of taking advantage of the calm the beach provided. He wasn’t yet sure if that was an intelligent thing to do.

Still, he wasn’t sure how Kurusu had decided to scavenge for seashells, of all things, let alone how Kurusu managed to drag him into it. He at least wanted to seem somewhat compliant with Kurusu’s activities, but no one could have faulted him for not wanting to spend a good deal of the day gathering seashells.

“Let’s go, then,” Akechi nods. “and not that I’m complaining, but what exactly do you plan on doing with these?”

Kurusu only shrugs as he follows Akechi in the other direction. “Haven’t gotten that far. I’ll probably bring one or two back to my place, but I’m just going to dump the rest back out.”

Akechi tilts his head, openly curious, and perhaps a little unimpressed. “Isn’t this a particular amount of effort for something you’ll have nothing to show for?”

Kurusu laughs as he crouches to the ground again, plucking another shell out the sand and, after making sure there were no inhabitants, putting it in his makeshift net (a discarded grocery bag he’d found). “It is,” he agrees as he buries his hand into the sand. “but I’m doing it less for the result and more just because seashell hunting is fun. I like seeing what I can dig up. Oh -- try looking down at where you are now. I think there might be some just where you’re standing.”

Akechi, with nothing better to do other than ponder his own inability to empathize with Kurusu’s logic, obliges, far more careful and aware of where he’s shoving his hands compared to Kurusu.

His caution, as it turns out, does him well.

“Ow, ow -- shit -- it’s a crab --”

Akechi, turning his head to Kurusu, can’t stop the very real grin that quickly appears on his face. He can’t even feel bad that Kurusu’s misfortune is the first thing that has genuinely amused him since they’d begun ‘dating’.

By the time Kurusu has scampered to the shoreline to discard the crustacean back to the ocean, Akechi’s snickering has turned into actual laughter.

Once Kurusu has shook the crab latched onto his finger back into the ocean, Kurusu looks back at Akechi, one hand still wrapped around his finger -- swollen and red but otherwise fine -- and grins at Akechi’s amusement. Akechi is quick to remember himself, but Kurusu has already seen his face, so he has no longer has any hope in the matter.

“I’m wounded and you have the audacity to laugh,” Kurusu whines dramatically, plopping himself beside Akechi again (away from where he’d put his hands earlier). He drapes his arms around Akechi’s waist, and lazily whispers, “you’re such a poor boyfriend.”

He really has no idea.

“I’m not sure why you didn’t expect that to happen,” he hums, feeling Kurusu’s frown against his neck. “I suppose this means you’ll give up on your shell-hunting endeavors for today?”

To Akechi’s surprise, Kurusu shakes his head. “Not for a while. The day is still young, after all.”

“You .. do realize it’s evening, don’t you?” He turns to the pink sky, painted by the setting sun.

“I do. I have no where better to be, though,” Kurusu laughs, embracing Akechi a bit more snugly, pausing for a moment as he runs a hand through Akechi’s hair. “And even if I did, I’d rather be spending time with you.”

Akechi immediately brands him as a liar, if just to disassociate himself from the intimacy of the situation. The sun was setting, the beach was scarce of others, Kurusu’s arms were around him--

He was too starved of affection to resist, unless he told himself that Kurusu was not genuine. Akechi had never been anyone’s first choice (rarely was he a choice at all unless he had something to offer); fate certainly wasn’t changing now. 

He convinced himself of this fairly easily, at least to the point that when Kurusu goes to kiss him, he, instead of feeling nothing, feels irritated. At whom, however, he wasn’t sure.

“You like spending time with me, right?”

“I do.” Akechi answers, a bit more easily this time than the last, unfortunately, because a small part of him was being honest. Sharing the company of someone who was kind and intimate was pathetically novel to him, and, what was worse was the realization that he enjoyed it. It was still incredibly uncomfortable, in a way that it would only be for someone like Akechi, attention-starved for the majority of their life, but he’d stopped disliking it long ago, which was a very, very bad thing.  
It was still easy to distance himself, though. Kurusu still knew nothing of Akechi beyond surface level; he was in love with his pleasant front, not him, no different from the rest of Japan to which he held the same disdain.

Still, the way he relaxed a bit into Kurusu’s grip was unintentional, slight enough to the point of Akechi not even catching it, but very much honest.

\--

It was night by the time they left the beach. Akechi was tired, physically and emotionally, but it still gave him a good reason to not interact with Shido for the day, a sacred opportunity he’d gladly snatch in spite of consequences.

Again, they talked, the conversation filled with Kurusu’s blatant affection and Akechi’s attempts at fake warmth rather than distance. He’d never interacted with another like this, even falsely; it was all very much foreign to him, but he’d like to think he was quickly picking up on what responses Kurusu liked.

It was easier than he had originally expected. Reciprocate affection, occasionally be the one to start a conversation or carry it on, with the occasional tease to make it seem more honest; rinse, repeat, and Kurusu seemed none the less smitten. Simple, and him disassociating himself from his scheduled responses helped keep any real emotion out the way.

“--oh, and, not to change the subject, but have you heard of a Futaba Sakura?”

The swerve in that particular direction was enough to briefly surprise him. “I’m ... sorry?”

“Futaba Sakura. You might not have heard of her, but -- I really need to get in contact with her, and I think you might’ve heard the name through work. Do you know anything?”

And there, Akechi was presented with two choices. He could do what was in the best interest of their one-sided relationship, or, he could choose to keep him in the dark; but the latter would bring up more questions, and if there was anything Akechi was trying to avoid it was definitely questions.

“I … suppose I’ve heard the name float around work,” he sighs, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Given their name, I assume you’ve already figured out one connection between them. I can provide you with some information, but for the sake of my career I ask that you leave your source uncredited.”

Kurusu’s face brightens. “Really? Thank you; this is important to me.”

Akechi sighs internally, but in the face of Kurusu he gives a small smile. “You’re welcome. I hope you don’t mind, but you might be listening to me carry on for some time.”

Kurusu grins, and it’s in that moment that Akechi realized he had walked into another one of Kurusu’s sickeningly sweet sentiments. “Oh, I like listening to your voice. It’s nice.”

Akechi briefly turns away, hoping that that and the curtain of his hair hide the redness of his face. “Please,” he huffs, but it comes out more as a rough wheeze, and Akechi would like to die then and there. When he’s sure that he doesn’t have a deer-in-the-headlights expression, he looks back to Kurusu, and his chest burns at how incredibly accomplished he looks. “I’ll try my best to be to-the-point.”

He gives him Futaba Sakura’s general situation; a girl around their age with a deceased mother and an unknown father, and under the care of his own guardian. He smartly keeps some details out, just to make it appear he knew little of her other than a few key points.

“-- is that what you needed?”

He hoped it was, or else the last five minutes had been useless for the both of them.

“That was great. You’re great.” Kurusu hums. Akechi, again, flushes under the praise, but this time around he isn’t given the opportunity to look away. Instead, Kurusu is gently holding his face, thumb tracing his jawline. He’s forced to look at Kurusu now, and, the warmth and sheer fondness in Kurusu’s eyes does something to him; it certainly doesn’t help the redness of his face. 

Kurusu goes to kiss him, and now, he doesn’t know what he feels.

Then, he remembers that this was the same boy he’d be needing to eventually murder, and he hastily goes back to concluding that he feels nothing.

“It wasn’t much,” he answers quietly, once Kurusu pulls away. “I’m glad I could help you, however.”

Kurusu rolls his eyes at his modesty before going to run his hands through Akechi’s hair. “Seriously. Thank you.”

Akechi doesn’t answer, and, after a moment, he pulls himself out of Kurusu’s touch. “Shouldn’t you be heading home soon? It’s rather late.”

There’s a pause, and Kurusu looks rarely hesitant before he inches forward to bump shoulders with Akechi. “Actually, since it is so late, I was thinking I could crash here for the night. You don’t mind, do you?” Kurusu hums. Akechi can feel Kurusu’s newfound grin pressed to the back of his neck.

“If you’d like.” Akechi answers, his voice more of a hoarse whisper than he’d intended. 

“I guess it’s settled then. I’ll take the couch, by the way, unless you’d rather us share a bed. I wouldn’t object, you know.” Kurusu’s grin grows a bit wider, and by the time the other’s fingers reach his thigh, his brain has short-circuited and decided to throw pleasantries out the window.

“Well, I would.” Akechi hisses, roughly jerking himself away from Kurusu. Kurusu, thrown off with the momentum, nearly face-plants to the couch before his hands break his fall. They stare at each other for a long moment, both reading the other’s face, before they both interject to apologize. 

“--I didn’t mean to come off like that. I’m just not used to this, is all. You’ll have to be patient with me.” He’s quick to beckon his facade again, voice serene and apologetic.

“No, it’s my fault, really. I should have asked.” He raises a hand near Akechi’s shoulder, and, once Akechi nods, he gently places it there. “Are you okay?”

In a fucked up sort of way, Akechi wishes Kurusu hadn’t stopped, wished he had argued and pushed for it. All he wanted was a reason to hate Kurusu, a reason to throw him back out, because clearly pretending to have feelings for Kurusu had been a horrible, doomed idea from the start, and now what he wanted was a reason to remove himself. He desperately needed to be the hero, and he couldn’t have that sense of justice when his foe was a kind, caring person. He didn’t think of Kurusu as a lover, but now, he was having a much harder time viewing him with the same disdain as he once had when he was nothing more than a faceless, nameless obstacle. He’d overestimated his own apathy. 

“I am,” Akechi answers quietly. “Like I said before, this is only new to me.”

“I hope you become more comfortable in time, then,” Kurusu responds, and Akechi wants to strangle himself for his own bad choice in words. “Just, let me know if I do something you don’t like, okay? I want you to feel comfortable.”

Akechi wonders how Kurusu would feel if he told him that this entire endeavor was the pinnacle of his discomfort.

He supposed he’d get to do so in time.

“Thank you,” Akechi answers, just a little bit awkward. “You can do the same for me, then, if I ever happen to do something that bothers you.”

Kurusu always seems smitten to the point that Akechi is sure he could do little to bother him, but that seemed rude to mention.

“Okay.” Kurusu responds, voice quiet but sincere.

There’s a thick silence that follows, and Akechi decides it might be smart to break it.

“I’ll bring you a spare blanket.” Akechi is off the couch before the sentence is even finished. Once he’s in his room, he sits at the edge of the bed and sucks in a long breath to try and process things, but by the time he’s reaching out the sheet to Kurusu, he feels he’s still in the same state.

“Aw, I thought you were going to tuck me in.” Kurusu pouts. Akechi grimaces. 

“I’ll leave that honor to yourself, thanks. Is there anything else you need?”

“I’m fine, I think,” he answers as he cocoons into the blanket. “Sleep well, Akechi.”

“Good night.” he responds, a bit more stiffly than he’d intended, but he’s quick to get back to his room before he can see Kurusu’s response. Kurusu seemed to have the idea that this was all very much foreign territory for Akechi -- the one truth Akechi had been willing to give him -- so, hopefully, he’d chalk it up to that.

Still, when Akechi crawls into bed, his head is swimming and he, once again, tells himself that this was a horrible, doomed idea.

He might as well reap the benefit of trust it gave him, though. There would be only a few more months; then, Akechi would kill Kurusu, and this would all be but another drop in the ocean of his plan.

It’s that reassurance that, twistedly enough, lulls Akechi to sleep.

\--

That morning, Kurusu wakes before Akechi.

Akechi had been expecting it; Kurusu had school, while his own school and branch of work had had enough pity to grant an overworked teenager a day off. He’d fully intended on sleeping in, but the sound of something stirring in the living room was still enough to jolt him awake.

Once his hair has been been patted down to something more tame, he opens the door to the living room. Kurusu -- already dressed in his school uniform, thankfully -- looks in his direction before smiling apologetically.  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he uses the hand that isn’t lodging his free foot into his shoe to make some sort of vague gesture. “Did you sleep well, at least?”

“Don’t worry. I usually wake up around this time,” Akechi lies, inching back towards the doorframe of his room like some kind of worried, feral animal. “I did. And you?”

“Never better. Your couch is comfortable.” Kurusu hums. Akechi braces himself for what is likely to come out Kurusu’s mouth next, but luckily for him, that segue never approaches. “Thanks for letting me stay the night, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do in exchange for your company,” Akechi’s tone has went back to being mildly honeyed, now that some of the haze of sleep has worn. “I hope your day goes well for you.”

They bid each other their goodbyes, and then Kurusu is finally, finally, out of his house. He was left to contemplate things in silence, until the buzz of his phone -- a noise that was quickly turning into some sort of vulture’s cry for Akechi -- shook him out of it.

When he checks the ID, he finds himself wishing it was Kurusu instead; in his defense, considering the person behind the current message, anyone else could have texted him and he would have been glad.

Still, he turns his phone on and gives a careful, calculated reply, sending it after a slow onceover. Then, he promptly crawls back in bed, overwhelmed with the urge to escape his situation, if only for a few hours.

\--

Again, the vibrating of his phone wakes him. He peers over at the name.

Kurusu.

> [Kurusu] hey, do you want to go to Leblanc with me tomorrow? I’ll make your favorite.

The gears turn in Akechi’s head, but it’s in vain, because he still goes against common sense.

> Sure.

> [Kurusu] ok, see you then!! Love you <3

Ignoring the last comment -- which makes his stomach twist in ways he didn’t want to think about -- he sets his phone to ‘silent’ and buries his face back to his pillow, more than a little flustered despite him trying not to ponder it, despite him still trying to paint Kurusu as someone who didn’t really trust him and was, like Akechi, only playing nice to gain intel.

He fails at both, though, and he hates that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://twitter.com/nadireon


	3. all at sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and we see, we are the same, same but different._

Akechi knows that what Akira is about to do is a horrible idea that won’t end well for either of them, but he has no alibi to resist, so he complies.

At least, that’s the reason he tells himself.

Under different circumstances, Leblanc was a calming place for him to visit, an escape away from the dual lives he lead as a celebrity and assassin -- especially after the incident with Medjed --, even if Akira’s constant presence was a perpetual  
reminder of the situation he had put the both of them in. But, Kurusu wanting what he did out of this encounter turned the context into something more daunting and awkward.

But, like the idiot he is, he lets Kurusu tug him by the cuff of his sleeve into Leblanc.

Their first step in is accompanied by a bell chime; the sound, usually mild, roars in his ears instead. His eyes, by habit, go to the counter; Sakura-san, unsurprisingly, only grunts and regards the two of them with indifference. The girl behind him, red-haired and glaring daggers, was what caught his attention, alongside a sense of cold realization, why Kurusu had wanted intel on her in the first place, that he’d have to sort out some other time.

The real issue, or saving grace, perhaps, because it gave him an excuse to leave, were the rest of his friends watching him, unimpressed and harsh.

(Sakura-san senses the tension, apparently, because he grunts something about needing to buy groceries and cleaning up after themselves before leaving).

The blonde haired one -- Sakamoto -- is the first to speak, or, blurt, really. “What’s he doing here?”

The others seem to share the sentiment, too, and, before he melts under the intensity of their disdain, he takes a step back. “I’m unwanted here, too, then,” Akechi quietly laughs in a hollow, desperate attempt at a humorous saving face. “Am I bothering you all? I can leave, if you’d like--”

He looks to see Kurusu firmly gripping his shoulder. “You're not bothering anyone,” In spite of the publicity of their conversation, the statement sounds private, reserved as a reassurance for Akechi rather than a rebuttal to the others. “Come on, sit down with me.”

It feels more than a little awkward, and the others look more than a little confused, but he hesitantly obliges anyway. Unwittingly, he keeps close to Kurusu.

The talk they have is as tense as Akechi has imagined it might be. They were filled with friendly pretenses, but he knew they didn’t like him, and they knew that, to him, they were barely acquaintances. It’s easy for Akechi to keep the conversation pleasant and constant, but the bitter undercurrent’s presence was undeniable.

Kurusu had been surprisingly quiet throughout, and, more than anything, Akechi wished that theme had continued once he finally speaks.

“We’re dating, by the way.”

It’s enough to stun the rest of them into silence, Akechi included. Then, in unison, from the others --

“--what?”

Akechi wants to melt then and there, claim he just realized he had a very important work meeting he would be late to if he didn’t leave now, but a very, very small part of him is interested as to how Kurusu will react to the lack of enthusiasm, and that’s what kept him put (it was only sheer curiosity, though. He refused to care about the lengths Kurusu would be willing to go for him).

Kurusu’s voice is firm in spite of their apparent opposition. “He’s my boyfriend.”

There’s a pause, and then the eyes all turn to him. “Is that true?” One of them asks, but his brain is swimming to the point where he doesn’t pick it out. He thinks it’s Niijima, though.

He should have said no -- he could weave a good lie, later -- if only because openly agreeing made things feel that much more like the actual reality, though. But, strictly, for the sake of keeping appearances, he does the opposite.

“Yes,” he nods, voice far softer and less steady than he’d intended. “I am.”

Another silence, something that was becoming laughably common during the stretch of this encounter, occurred. Niijima chose to broke it, and the conversation goes off into another direction, again, but he can tell that none of them are particularly happy, and Akechi is too lost in his own thoughts to feel anything other than distanced.

But, he could tell his answer had pleased Kurusu; it was another thing on his list of things about Kurusu that he couldn’t acknowledge -- not if he didn’t want to risk actually falling in love with him, a possibility he thoroughly denied to himself, but in the deeper parts of his subconscious, he knew it was much closer than he’d like, and seemingly inevitable.

It didn’t mean he’d let the feelings drag him in without kicking and screaming, though.

He internally sighs with relief once Kurusu’s friends have left. After a moment, he’s ready for his own departure, but Kurusu lacing his fingers between his own stations him.

“Hey.” Kurusu’s voice is filled with enough warmth and concern for him to feel his face grow warm. He turns away in an attempt to hide it, but Kurusu’s hand slowly finds the side of his face, and, very gently, turns it back to him.

“Is there anything you need?” Akechi’s words were meant to be isolating, but, in spite of the formality of the sentence, it still sounded painfully intimate. Kurusu only smiles for a moment, before leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“What did you mean when you said you were ‘unwanted here, too’? I find it hard to believe there’s places where you aren’t wanted.” Kurusu murmurs, warmly, into the crook of his neck. Akechi only half-suppresses his shudder. Then, Kurusu has stood up and moved away, and Akechi scolds himself for the way his body misses the heat.

“Let’s go up to my room.” Kurusu, again, tugs at the cuff of Akechi’s sleeve, and Akechi, again, doesn’t resist.

He’d forgotten the oddly comforting shabbiness of Kurusu’s room. “It hasn’t changed much since I was last here.” _Since I’d decided any of this was a good idea,_ his brain jabs, but his voice remains light.

“Hey, I’ve put some things on my shelves since. That’s a change,” he retorts, but the humor sounds nervous and awkward. He pats the side of his futon, and, once Akechi has sat down beside him, his voice goes back to seriousness. “Really, though. What did you mean when you said you were unwanted elsewhere?”

He stares at the ground, voice shaky and avoidant. “It’s nothing, really--”

“Goro, talk to me, please. You can trust me; I promise.”

Akechi immediately tenses at his first name being spoken aloud; that aside, the words pierced through multiple insecurities. “It’s not that I don’t,” He still didn’t, really, but here he was, about to lay his life story in front of him. “I just rarely talk about this.”

Kurusu says nothing, but he places a hand to his knee, watching Akechi expectantly.

“I’m an unwanted child. My mother -- she got caught up with some greasy lowlife; that’s why I exist. Being a single mother in our current society, as well as caring for a son she never wished to have, was too heavy a burden for her to live with, I suppose. I was tossed around to various children homes, but,” his answer is rushed, and he sucks in a breath. “I’m alright now.”

The mere act of saying it made him feel much too vulnerable. He brought his knees to his chest, and, in some sort of unhelpful defense mechanism, his eyes turn hostile when they meet Kurusu.

“Why do you like me, anyway? How do I know you’re not just another ‘fan’ that only likes me for me celebrity status?” He nearly snarls, but he manages to keep himself more cordial than that, even if there’s still no doubting the sneer in his tone.

He needs Kurusu to give him the wrong answer, really. He desperately needed a reason to go back to hating him as nothing more than a pesky criminal.

But, every time he tries for it, Kurusu just gives him another reason to the contrary.

“I think we’re very similar,” Kurusu murmurs, no bite in his words in spite of Akechi’s own harshness. “Especially after what you just told me.”

The confession is enough for him to look surprised rather than irritated. “What do you mean?”

“My parents don't like me much, and I think this whole probation thing was really the last straw for them,” he chuckled half-heartedly. “but, I’m doing my best in spite of it, and you are too, aren't you?”

It depended on what he meant by ‘doing his best’, really.

When Akechi doesn't respond after a few seconds, Akira gently pressed his lips against his forehead.

“I know there's more to you than what you show the camera,” he hummed, curling a strand of Akechi’s hair around his finger. “and I’m sure not all of that is pleasant, but that's fine, okay? You're perfect the way you are, Goro.”

Akechi feels himself burn under the affection. “That's not true, I…”

 

_Am the reason you have an assault record and are living in an attic?_

_Murdered your friend’s mother?_

_Will be framing a murder on you and your friends?_

_Plan on shooting you in the face and staging it as a suicide?_

Akechi is hit with the reminder, that, no matter what, the only way someone could like him, was through them not knowing what he had done and planned on doing.

At a loss for words, Akechi trails off. Kurusu nuzzles his face before hoisting Akechi up -- he makes a surprised ‘oh’ but doesn't fight against him -- into his lap.

“It’s the same for me, too,” Kurusu elaborates softly, before laying his back to the bed and leaving Akechi straddling his waist. “You can have all of me, Goro,” he smiled sweetly, gently grasping Akechi’s hand and slowly leading it to the center of his ribcage, to his heart. “I’ve got you.”

It takes a lot of willpower for Akechi not to tear up; he’s not sure he entirely succeeds anyways. He stares at Kurusu, unsure of how to handle the one person in his life who seemed to genuinely enjoy his company.

It was a bad, stupid thing to do, but for the first time, he’s the one to lean in and hover over Kurusu’s face before kissing him.

Kurusu wasn't expecting it himself, apparently; he tenses a little at first, but it isn't long before he's melting into the kiss.

His lips are gentle and curious against Kurusu’s, and, god, kissing was so much better when they were both reciprocating. It felt a lot warmer, somehow; now, it was a gesture of legitimate affection, something Akechi had rarely, if ever, received.

When Akechi finally breaks it off, Kurusu’s gaze upon him is more fond than ever.

This would all be a lot sweeter if Akechi didn’t plan on killing Kurusu. It’s that inevitability that keeps him the slightest bit distant; that, and the fact that Kurusu didn’t really know him -- the true him, or so he told himself.

“Can you stay the night, this time?” he asks.

“I can.” he answers quietly, because he’s done everything wrong today, anyway. This couldn’t make things worse. He just wanted to sleep, to get a moment’s escape from all the mistakes he had made in the span of a night. It was all a painful, hellish emotional rollercoaster that would end far too late.

But he can relax, just a little, when he finally lays his head down, and Kurusu wraps an arm around his waist. Still, it was too intimate; it would happen just this once, just for the sake of gaining more of Kurusu’s trust, but next time he asked he’d have another excuse as to why he couldn’t stay.

Kurusu murmurs something warm into his ear, but whatever it might have been, he doesn’t catch it, because he’s slowly drifting to a rest that is equal parts anxious and warm.

\--

That morning -- after a very awkward, short talk with Sakura-san over a coffee -- he’s finally back to the lonely comfort of his own apartment. But it was only a small solace; the familiarity of his apartment could not take his mind off what he was soon to do.

Kurusu had his school, and Akechi, well, he had his own brand of work; yet another one of Shido’s political rivals to snuff out.

As a child, he would have been horrified at the thought of killing another -- a small part of him still was, but the feeling was smothered by him justifying it in his quest for revenge. He, in spite of his actions, was good at convincing himself this was all means to an end for justice, that this was all needed. He was a hero; he didn’t need to think through the morality of what he did, and he certainly didn’t need his storyline cloyed by a cheap romance.

He knew Kurusu only liked him for his facade, in spite of what he had said last night. After all, Kurusu didn’t know of him collaborating with the person responsible for his probation, or of the blood -- some of which was directly related to his friend -- on his hands.

Besides, this was all a do-or-die situation, and Akechi valued his own life over the pungency of those he was sent to assassinate.

It would be easy enough to goad Kurusu and his friends into targeting Okumura; all they needed was manipulation of the website to where he was the most popular vote, and, as he already had a palace (he’d checked for that in advance), all it would take would be the rumors -- though calling solidified facts ‘rumors’ was kind -- of mistreatment, and the existence of a palace to make changing Okumura’s heart their next priority.

Akechi’s job was simple enough, as it always was. He’d wait things out until they had properly weakened Okumura, and, once alone, shoot him dead. The shutdown, conveniently enough, would likely take place the same time he confessed, and the publicity would make it all the more easy to shove blame onto the thieves.

But some sense of uneasiness still rocked in his stomach, a remaining sliver of reluctance to betray the one person he, although he didn’t dare acknowledge it, felt a resemblance of care-- and maybe a little something more than that, too -- towards. The hesitance made it almost like he hadn’t been smothering his emotions all his life -- but he had, and the experience was what kept his resolve intact; it was fragile and weakened, but there nonetheless.

His emotions weren’t to be considered, anyway. It’d never been about what he wanted, after all, and the only highlight to this whole damn scheme was that, once it was done, and it wouldn’t be much longer, now, he would at least be able to end the man that had forced his life to be lived as nothing more than an insignificant tool. He was a celebrity, of course, but his fans were just as insignificant as himself.

He was little more than an insignificant person, praised by equally insignificant people.

That feeling of inadequacy had always been what had drove him to play some twisted edition of a hero, at least in his own reality, but even now, it wasn’t enough. He felt it never would be, anyway, so it seemed smart to take what he could reap from it all.

He’d take what Kurusu gave him, too, but he wouldn’t feel the attachment; that was the justification he would use for each inch Kurusu grew closer to him -- and he’d never outwardly acknowledge what the bond did to him, nor the way his emotions had turned last night.

In that moment, he receives a message from Kurusu.

** > [Kurusu] ** _mind if i come over?_

It’s easy for Akechi to message back his consent, because he’s still able to convince himself that nothing would come from it; that he was only allowing this to gain Kurusu’s trust, and certainly not because he was embarrassingly wanting of the company of the one half-decent person in his life.

\--

Though it was at least half an hour until Kurusu knocked at the door, time rushed by in a way that still made him feel far too unprepared.

And, when his cold hands find the knob of the door, Kurusu looks at him with a fondness so warm it takes him aback, yet again.

“Miss me?” he grins, in a way that’s as irritating as it is unfortunately endearing.

“I suppose so,” Akechi hums, voice pleasant and a little humorous, but still laced with the last remnants of distance he was so desperately clinging to. “Here, come sit down. It is a rather long distance from my place to yours, after all.” he continues, gesturing to the couch. Once Kurusu has taken a seat, he does the same, putting a few safe inches of space between them, though he suspects that Kurusu plans on closing it soon.

He doesn’t think he’ll obstruct him, if that’s the case.

But even now, he was distant, a million things still racing through his mind, and, for one of the moments in his life, his lack of calm shows, eyes looking somewhere that isn’t Kurusu’s face, his hand clenched around his knee.  
“--are you okay? You look a little out of it.”

And, Kurusu knows. Kurusu always knows; he’s the one person Akechi hasn’t manage to completely fool with his facade, and, once that facade is stripped away, Akechi isn’t sure of how to act; he’s had no need for a ‘real’ him, given everyone in his life’s lack of interest in him beside his abilities, rather it be his powers in the Metaverse or the public demanding he solve every crime that stumbled his way.

Still, he sticks to his guns, cheap and unrefined as they might be.

“Ah, yes. I’ve just had some particular trouble at work. It eventually does begin to take a toll on you, after all.”

To be fair, he was being honest, if leaving out a few small, entirely insignificant details, when he said his work was tiring.

Kurusu pauses for a moment, and briefly Akechi wonders if he had misspoken somehow, until he inches closer beside him. Akechi thinks he’s going to try something, but instead, he only places his head on Akechi’s shoulder.

Akechi isn’t sure how to react, but, in the common theme of bad judgement that had been running his choices for so long, he leans into Kurusu. Kurusu seemed pleased with the advancement, turning to bury his face to the crook of Akechi’s neck.

It lasts for a few precious minutes, and in that time, Akechi is reminded and struck with the magnitude of how much Kurusu adores him; and how little he has done to deserve it.

His thoughts, however, take a very wild serve when he feels Kurusu’s tongue against the side of his neck. Akechi isn’t sure what comes out his mouth in response, but he does know that, whatever it was, it was painfully undignified.

“I can distract you, if you’d like,” he murmurs warmly, his hands trailing to his thigh like they had last time, when Akechi had taken the advance badly; but, now, he’s more gentle with his touches, slower, in case Akechi wants to reject (he doesn’t). “Do you want that? Do you want me to get you off, Goro?”

Akechi shudders under the heat of Kurusu’s words, under the heat of the use of his first name. There was a wanting in Kurusu’s question, but it was laced with a gentle concern; again, Akechi was reminded of the care he treated him with, though it was impossible to truly forget.

This was the pinnacle of things he shouldn't let happen happen anyway, but for the time being the less calculating parts of his brain -- and body -- are making the decisions for him.

His cock is half-hard, too, so that's another country heard from.

“Yes.” It comes out less like a normal answer and more like a strained hiss, but Kurusu seems delighted with the desperation.

Yet, irritatingly enough, he still takes things slowly.

“Okay,” he murmurs, some of Akechi’s annoyance alleviated when Kurusu’s teeth graze the lower half of his ear. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay? I’ve been wanting this for awhile, but,” he pauses to grind his erection against Akechi’s thigh; Akechi knew it had to be for the sake of emphasis, as his current position wasn't giving him much friction. “I want you to feel good, more than anything.”

Not trusting himself with words, Akechi only nods -- then Kurusu is shifting into his lap. He isn't sure if it was Kurusu's intention, but his ass grinds against Akechi’s cock with the movement. Akechi, never of his own accord, gasps brokenly and feels the further strain of his cock against his pants.

“That was hot,” Kurusu comments with a casualness that seems horribly misplaced given their current endeavor. “Let's see if I can get you to moan my name for me. And, don't worry, I’ll have your cock out of those pants and in my mouth soon enough.”

Akechi flushes in earnest. He looks away in an attempt to hide the effect of Kurusu's words, but the jump of his cock gives him away. Kurusu only grins triumphantly -- though he wasn't in a state much better than Akechi. Just shameless.

 

Adjusting himself, he shoves his body forward with purpose; and this time, Kurusu's erection is grinding roughly against Akechi’s own.

His hands find Kurusu’s face, and after a second of hesitation, he kisses him roughly.

Kurusu makes a sound vaguely like a purr, but, never one to be outdone, he shoves his tongue into Akechi’s mouth, grazing Akechi’s own tongue, and still grinding their cocks together all the while. Kurusu's hands find Akechi’s ass, and the noises Akechi is making into Kurusu's mouth only grow louder and more desperate.

Akechi realized, to his embarrassment, that he'd never been this hard in his life. He wonders what it would feel like without the barrier of clothes, but he doesn't have the audacity to initiate that, and his mouth is occupied, anyway.

He has a different question, though.

Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss -- partially out of a need for air -- and his mouth moves to Kurusu’s jawline before he can protest.

“Just how long have you wanted this, exactly?” he sneers, his voice coming out more malicious than he’d intended, but he’s too far gone to care. Not waiting for a response, he breaks his mouth away from Kurusu, only for his teeth to dig into the exposure of Kurusu’s collarbone. He’s rewarded with a soft moan -- but, again, Akechi pulls away, not letting Kurusu off without an answer.

Kurusu stares at him in a sort of fond exasperation before running a hand through Akechi’s hand, still rutting against his cock all the while. “Since the first time we went out to the beach,” Kurusu admits breathlessly, his hands finding purchase on Akechi’s hips. “You’re so good; I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

Akechi burns in the face of Kurusu’s blatant want, and even now, he can’t help but think it must be some elaborate hoax; the idea of being wanted, even with Kurusu being uninformed of his current associations, is still painfully abstract. Still, Kurusu was making the idea slightly more believable, even if, in due time, he’d (rightfully) want nothing at all to do with him.

It was hard to focus on that aspect of things, though, considering Kurusu’s finger was tracing his waistband.

“So,” Kurusu’s expression turns devious, humming in a mock innocence. “How about we get you out of those clothes, yea?”

Akechi only lifts his legs up in compliance, and in what feels like an eternity, the only barrier left is the thin fabric of his boxers -- and Kurusu’s pants are gone too, but he isn’t very sure of when that happened.

Kurusu nips at Akechi’s lip before his hand begins palming his cock in earnest. Akechi lets out a broken moan, and he shudders at the feeling of Kurusu’s erection resting against his thigh, all the more obvious with less clothes between the two.

His fingers hook underneath Akechi’s boxers, gaze heavy with a promise; but he’s hesitating.

“You’re still okay with this, right?”

“I wouldn’t have let it go this far if I wasn’t.” Akechi retorts impatiently, leaning in to nip at Kurusu’s ear.

“Just making sure.” Kurusu laughs softly, finally tugging Akechi’s boxers downward, until they’re resting at the floor.

It’s only then, cock hard and dripping precum onto his stomach, does he remember just how exposed he is. Kurusu seems to understand that, too, and in one swift motion he’s just as exposed as Akechi. Akechi forces his eyes not to linger.

“You’re so perfect,” Kurusu murmurs warmly, sinking down to his knees; Akechi feels Kurusu’s erection brush against his leg on the way down, leaving a trail of precum. “You can cum in my mouth, if you want. I want you to; I want to taste you.”

Before Akechi has the chance to respond, Kurusu’s lips are hot and wet on the tip of his cock.

In some desperate attempt to feign control, Akechi’s hand finds itself in Kurusu's hair. It seems to encourage him, though, breaking away only for his tongue to lap at the underside of his erection.

“Kurusu,” he gasps, his grip on Kurusu's scalp becoming just a bit tighter. “Kuru--su--”

“Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.” Kurusu mutters against his cock. He mouths at his cock for a moment longer, before properly enveloping it.

Akechi’s moan is delightfully fragmented.

His hips buck forward of their own accord, no longer able to feign propriety. It makes Kurusu's mouth all the more hot and persistent; he, unsurprisingly, can't deepthroat him, but it doesn't matter because Kurusu's hand is stroking the part of his dick that his mouth can't take.

It's only then Akechi realizes that Kurusu is humping his leg with the same feverency Akechi is moving his hips. He isn't sure why he finds this hot, but in the moment he does, and it inches him all the closer to his impending orgasm.

Kurusu is still sucking and lapping with an increased intensity. It makes him glad that he’d been given permission beforehand to, as Kurusu put it, ‘cum in his mouth’, because Akechi isn't sure he could have formulated a proper warning in his current state, on the brink of orgasm.

When Kurusu, apparently as privy to Akechi’s swiftly approaching orgasm as he was himself, takes his unoccupied hand to grab a handful of his ass, he breaks.

It all feels painfully sweet, alight with oversensitivity as he feels himself cum in Kurusu's hot, wet mouth, tongue still eagerly helping him ride out the orgasm. He feels Kurusu grow a bit more stiff and less focused, but any question died in his head once he looked down.

Kurusu was cumming against his leg, still desperately rutting against him -- with Akechi’s cock in his mouth, no less -- as he streaked Akechi's leg with cum.

Once they’d both came down from their highs, there was a thick silence, only broken by their labored breathing.

Then, Kurusu clambers back onto the couch and slumps his body against Akechi’s.

“A job well done?” Kurusu grins, face still flushed.

“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” Akechi laughs breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “But I suppose so.”

“I’m glad,” Kurusu smiles warmly, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We should probably take a shower.” He laughs, gesturing to the mess he’d made of Akechi’s leg.

“I’m still .. surprised you did that,” Akechi admits awkwardly; Kurusu doesn’t even have the decency to look shameless. “You’re saying you want to shower together, aren’t you?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

\--

With his head and body clean, Akechi finally has time to reflect on what he’d let happen.

With Kurusu sound asleep next to him, arm wrapped around his torso and keeping him snug against him, it would be easy to forget the circumstances that haunted him; but even now he couldn’t let his head rest. Regardless of Akechi’s feelings and their genuineness -- something he’d quietly accepted now -- it didn’t change the fact that there was still a plan that revolved around pinning a murder on and eventually killing the person who had just sucked him off and was now laying in his bed.

Maybe, maybe, he’d be able to revise his scheme to a point where it didn’t involve killing Kurusu, as a sort of apology for lying to him all this time, but no matter the outcome of that Akechi couldn’t help but feel bitter with himself; if he’d been smart and not tried acting as some lovestruck fool in the first place, he’d be better off, completely detached from Kurusu and free to act how he saw fit with no remorse. In the end, Kurusu would hate him, anyway.

Akechi was logical, calculating, but even with all the opposing forces, he couldn’t wash himself clean of the things he felt for Kurusu.

But no matter the swerves his plan might take due to what Akechi would call his own stupidity, he still had Okumura to kill and Kurusu to blame tomorrow.

For the time being, however, he could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bagel said this was the pork chapter


End file.
